


On Sweaters, Weddings, and Mysterious Lights

by cultivateourgarden



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: F/M, M/M, Typical Addams Family Weirdness, Typical Night Vale Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultivateourgarden/pseuds/cultivateourgarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a perfectly ordinary afternoon in the Addams family home, until they receive news from Night Vale.  Vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Sweaters, Weddings, and Mysterious Lights

It was a pleasant, ordinary afternoon in the Addams family home. Morticia was just knitting the thirteenth sleeve for a sweater she was making, a lovely shade of deep purple that she knew would show off the recipient’s eyes just perfectly. Wednesday was in the kitchen with Grandmama, learning a new poison recipe, and upstairs, she could hear the explosions from Pugsley’s train set. A perfectly lovely afternoon, particularly with the thunderstorm currently passing overhead. Perhaps she’d have to go out and enjoy it later; she’d really been cooped up inside too much with the dreadful weather they’d been having--all that sunshine.

The box by her left hand opened, and a hand offered her the day’s mail. “Why, thank you, Thing,” she said with a smile. Thing was always so considerate; he was really more like family than household help.

Gomez strode into the living room as well, his usual cigar in hand. “Anything interesting today, Morticia?”

She glanced through a few advertisements, and then stopped with delight at a hand-addressed letter. “Oh, it’s a letter from Cousin Cecil! How very fortunate; I was just finishing his sweater. You know how cold it gets after dark in Night Vale.”

Gomez frowned and picked up one of the finished sleeves to the sweater. “This is for Cousin Cecil? Aren’t those a bit small for his wings?”

She smiled and shook her head, setting aside her needles. “No, you’re thinking of Cousins Erika, Erika, and Erika, dear. Cousin Cecil is the one who inherited my Great-Grandfather Cthulhu’s striking figure.”

“Oh, right. And he lives in a charming little town like Night Vale too, the lucky duck.” She glanced up to see a few flecks of green jealousy marking his usual jet-black aura, and stood up, setting the letter aside, tangling her long arms around his neck.

“Now, Gomez. You know perfectly well that I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.” She kissed him deeply as his arms went around her, careful not to singe her dress with his cigar. For a long time, the kiss distracted them both, and when he pulled back, she could feel a flush rising to her ashy cheeks.

“Not even for a figure like Cecil’s?” Gomez asked, but more teasing this time, the green flecks fading back.

She smiled, a teasing smirk herself. “Now, Gomez...just imagine how many extra cuffs we’d have to keep on hand if you did.”

He groaned, taking a long drag on his cigar. “Don’t say things like that, Tish! You know it drives me wild, and Pugsley and Fester have their train set running all the way out into the hall. They’re playing Death Trap.” Another explosion came from upstairs, and Morticia steadied a vase out of habit; she wouldn’t want her prize thorny rose stems being upended. Gomez picked up a newspaper too and flipped to the obituaries. “What does Cecil say, anyway?”

Morticia sat back down in her winged chair and opened the letter with a dagger. Glancing over it, her face split in a wide smile. “Why, what wonderful news! Cousin Cecil is engaged! He says his fiancé is a scientist--and we’re all invited to the wedding.”

Gomez leapt up to look at the letter, written in lovely old-fashioned script with a feather quill. The invitations were classic, though tasteful: parchment written in ink mixed with blood from the two grooms. “Say, that will make a good vacation. Pugsley wasn’t old enough to really appreciate Night Vale last time, and Wednesday wasn’t born yet.”

“No, but I think we made her on that trip. The romantic atmosphere--those mysterious lights.”

Gomez sighed nostalgically. “Ah, what a night! The lonely screams in the distance.” He paused, glancing at the invitation. “Though what sort of a given name is Carlos? He must have gotten a terrible time from the other children.”

“Now, Gomez,” Morticia said firmly. “The young people these days like to give their children creative names, something that really make them stand out.”

“I suppose so, but it’s a lot to give a child a name like Carlos. No, give me a Wednesday or a Cain or a Lucrezia. Traditional, but practical.”

“Still, I was the fifth Morticia in my class, after all. And what were you?”

“Oh, I guess I was the third Gomez. I what you mean, Tish.” She smiled, seeing her point had been made.

Morticia stood and Gomez offered an arm. “There. Let’s go tell the children the good news. And,” she turned to her husband, eyes shouldering, “I think we can get past Pugsley’s trains if we really try, don’t you?”


End file.
